Parisian Nights
by DARX26
Summary: Harry finds himself in Paris with no clue of his name, or magic. Will eventually recall these, but will also be lacking the horcrux or glasses. Pairing will be Harry/Fleur. Will go by Adrien Iacomus Noir
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the rights to Harry Potter**

Harry Potter was a naturally pessimistic person, how could he not be with the life that he had lived? Still, his current situation was not one that he could have ever imagined himself in, particularly after the end of the previous school year when he had found out that he had a Godfather who actually cared about him. While he had spent the year thinking the man to be a murderous Death Eater, it didn't matter to him anymore. None of that was true, he was actually innocent and had only gone to jail because he never received a trial. Even though they hadn't been able to prove Sirius' innocence to Minister Fudge, he was still able to hold it over the Dursley's heads that he had a mass murderer for a Godfather, one who would be rather unhappy to find out that he received anything less than stellar treatment while he had to stay with them. Some would say that was foolish, and in a way it was. It nearly ended his life, but, thankfully, his magic chose to intervene.

At first, it seemed that this fact made the Dursleys rather more pleasant towards him, but he should have known that it would be too good to last. Even though he had been practically starved due to Dudley's diet, this was still the best that he had ever been treated by them. No threats, no being locked up, and no slaving away from sun up to sun down. Just a mind-numbing hunger, one that would have resulted in him withering away, a thing he couldn't afford to do with the small percentage of body fat that he already possessed. Thankfully, his friends were able to come to his rescue. The home cooked food from Molly Weasley was just what he needed to stay alive and cognizant of his surroundings. Overall, it was turning out to be an enjoyable summer, Harry had even discovered that Sirius and Buckbeak had absconded to somewhere tropical, based on the colorful birds that he sent his letters with. It amused Harry to see Hedwig turn her beak up at the intruders, as if she found them much too gaudy to be carrying mail to her Harry.

It was now approaching his birthday, and he was expecting a letter from Ron inviting him over to stay at the Burrow and maybe some news about the upcoming World Cup. He was rather excited, as, outside of quidditch at school, Harry hadn't really been involved in anything to do with the sport. Sure, he knew that the Chudley Cannons were atrocious, not that he would ever say that to Ron's face, and that Puddlemore United were one of the stronger teams in the league, but he hadn't really known about the international quidditch, strangely, he felt he should have known there was a wizarding equivalent to the World Cup that muggles followed so religiously. He was just hoping for a good game, and maybe there could be some moves pulled off that he could attempt to replicate. Unfortunately for him, the night before his birthday, Vernon came into his room while he was sleeping and just as Harry found himself jerked awake by the presence, he saw a cricket bat come swinging at his skull.

**Crack! **resounded through the small room as blood erupted from where it hit, right on his inflamed scar. That wasn't the last of it though, the hits kept on coming, as Vernon, smelling strongly of brandy hit him across the jaw and over the head before starting to wail on his ribs. Harry was unconscious once more, the concussion already knocking him out. The sound of several bones snapping could be heard during the moments of the beating, along with Vernon's drunken rambling. The sound of frantic footsteps could be heard outside the door, followed by the gleeful stomping of a baby whale.

"Oh, god! Lily, what would you say?" Petunia whimpered out, luckily for her, Vernon didn't hear, otherwise there was the chance that he would turn on her. While she had always been jealous of her sister, and derided her any chance she got, that didn't mean that she thought it was right to physically harm her nephew, emotionally, that's one thing, but to actually abuse him, no. Though, there was that time that she had swiped at his head with a frying pan, no, didn't count. The freak brought it upon himself.

"Serves you right, you freak. Thought you were something with your freaky tricks and criminal godfather, I'll show you to threaten me, in my own house. Who do you think you are? Should have left you in the orphanage, but of course Petunia's too nice for that. Bless her soul, not sure how a freak like your mom could have been her sister."

As his drunken tirade ended, he noticed that the boy looked to be one the edge of death, and that Petunia and Dudley had seen everything. Dudley had a look of pure delight in his piggy little eyes, while Petunia looked horrified, though, that could be over the blood all over the room, not her nephew's state.

"D'you kill'im Dad?" mumbled Dudley.

"Seems like it, didn't mean to. Just wanted to show him his place, but of course, a useless freak like him can't even take a proper beating. No, he has to go and make me seem like some sort of murderer, pansy boy. Shite, he's not breathing. Dudley, wrap him in the blanket, we're going to dump him in the ocean, I know a place where the tide will take the body out. No questions will be asked."

"You got it. That's so cool, how did you find that out?" then Dudley looked over at his pale mother, "You alright, mom?"

"I'm fine, dear. I never liked him, but he was my nephew. At least now he won't have to deal with the freakishness of the magical world. It's better for everyone. You two go dispose of the body, I'll take care of his possessions."

Internally, though, this was another story, her nephew was dead, what would her parents say in the afterlife, and Lily, no, she didn't want to think about what she would do to her. And she'd deserve all of it and more. It was like she couldn't think straight, and instead, her mind reverted to her basic thought process. _'I have to get rid of the evidence, wouldn't want our reputation to be ruined because of this, everything else can be dealt with later.'_

With that, the two rolled Harry up in an old blanket or two, before taking him into the trunk of the car, unaware of the changes that their actions had wrought upon Harry.

After the two had left with Harry, Petunia went about gathering all of his possessions and taking them to the fireplace, even if it meant unplugging the electric fireplace and removing the boards. This included Harry's owl, which had been shrieking nonstop since the assault on Harry. Finally, two hours later, all of his possessions were reduced to ash, even the ruddy bird. She had moved on autopilot through this whole process, not even aware of just what it was that she was burning, at least until she had caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning to it, she discovered that it was a picture of her sister and dratted husband, looking at her in a disapproving manner, as if they knew what had happened. After the final possession was nothing more than ash, she finally broke down. What was she doing, she was now an accomplice to the murder of her own blood. Who does that? Vernon was supposed to be a better person than that, and Dudley, since when had he been so sadistic?

As Petunia descended into her own personal hell, another person, far away was beginning to feel the same way.

"No, he should have been safe there, I put up the Blood Wards myself! How could he be dead, it just isn't possible," raged an indignant and inconsolable Dumbledore.

An hour previous, all of his monitoring tools set to Harry's magical signature had exploded. He had just been fast enough to shield himself from the explosion, but, he had still felt some of the force, smashing his head against his desk. It took him most of the hour to feel coherent again and then realize just what had happened.

Suddenly, springing into action in a manner much more reminiscent of a man a third of his age. Dumbledore let loose a patronus to Severus and Minerva. Hoping to get their help in resolving the issue. He still held out hope that Harry lived and was simply so hurt that his monitoring instruments had been confused.

A prim Minerva stepped through his fireplace a few seconds later, a sever glare laced her face.

"What is the meaning of your message, Dumbledore? I repeat, _Come quick, there has been trouble at Privet Drive and I fear for Harry's well being._ I told you that they were the worst sort of muggles when you left him there. Then, after you decided to ignore all reports from his childhood, I somehow let you convince me to allow him to return to those monsters, even after seeing all the signs of abuse and malnutrition. How could you!?"

Dumbledore's magic chose this moment to explode out from him, "You think that was easy for me, Minerva? I care for that child a great deal, and it pains me more than anyone but him to force him to return there. But, you know it is necessary for the greater good. If everything had worked out as it was supposed to, Harry would have sacrificed some happiness from his childhood, but my actions would have saved his life with the prophecy and he would be free to live life as he wanted to once the issue of Voldemort was permanently put to rest. I am not blind to the faults of the Dursleys, and the horrors they inflicted on the poor boy. I can tell from the clothes that he wore, the aversion to physical contact and praise, the inability to eat a lot at the beginning of the year. His lack of stature and weight. I know, and I hate myself for it. If it had all worked out, I would have been more than happy to take all of Harry's hate, knowing that it was a small price to pay to keep him alive."

"Hmm, well, yes. I can see that, but it doesn't make me any happier with the situation. Particularly your use of if it had worked out."

"And it shouldn't. I was a fool, thinking that the Dursleys were decent enough humans to at least keep Harry alive and moderately healthy."

Dumbledore was cut off as the fireplace flared once more and Severus strode out with his cape trailing behind him.

"What is this about Albus? I get quite enough of that arrogant child during the school year, why do you see the need to interrupt my summer with news about trouble concerning the brat?"

"Enough, I will not have you insulting the boy, especially not now, Severus. You have more alike with him than you know, though it seems his childhood was worse than yours ever was."

"Hnn, I doubt that."

"Well, let me ameliorate that doubt, roughly an hour, hour and a half ago. My monitoring instruments that were tied to Harry all shattered, this would only happen if he is no longer among the living. Now, I hope I am wrong here, but I have the feeling that I am not."

Snape looked shocked, Dumbledore was glad to see, even if it was for such a horrific reason. Minerva had tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Merlin. The poor boy. We must check on him."

"I agree, my dear. I was simply waiting for the two of you to meet me and then I planned to apparate to the Dursely's residence and get the truth."

"How, how could I have missed it? Lily's child, abused and now dead. He wasn't like Potter, god, I should have seen it. If only I could have looked past his resemblance to James. I'm sorry, Lily, I failed."

Minerva went to console Severus at this point, "Shh, I understand, Severus. But self-pity will accomplish nothing. Let us go find out the truth, and hopefully, he yet lives."

"Now, you two, come here, Fawkes will flame us to the residence. We will find out the truth and have to deal with the aftermath."

The three stood huddled in the room, a weight having settled over all of their shoulders following the night's revelations. Fawkes let out a mournful trill, before flaming the group to Little Whinging, near the edge of Privet Drive.

Snape led the way, before deciding that it would be a bad idea for him to be in the lead if he saw Petunia, so he dropped back, allowing Minerva to take the lead. As they got to the door, Minerva knocked several times. They heard the sound of water in the background, before it abruptly shut off and the door swung open. Petunia stared at them before paling and then breaking down on the spot. A stony Dumbledore led the group inside while directing the woman to her couch, his countenance was one of slow simmering rage. Not only had this woman stood by while her nephew was beat, but she then went and destroyed all of his possessions, owl, wand, invisibility cloak, and Firebolt. Like this was a normal occurrence for her to cover up after a murder.

Dumbledore suddenly understood his father's actions all those years ago, cursing those muggles after the treatment of Ariana. Thankfully, he was more in control of himself than his father. Severus on the other hand, a deft touch at Legimency, same as himself, seemed ready to crucio the woman after seeing her thoughts and memories. But, Minerva had managed to put him in a body-bind to prevent him from being sent to Azkaban. She may not be capable of Legimency, but her time spent as a Cat animagus had given her remarkable senses and she was able to pick up on the combination of blood, cleaning supplies, and ash. Thus, she had come to the same conclusion as Albus and Severus. Harry was dead, and this woman had tried to hide that fact.

"Petunia, I am appalled at your behavior, know that this will be the last you see of me outside of court. Your husband's actions may have just doomed the United Kingdom, but neither of you will be free to see the fall. Your whole family will face wizarding justice. Your sister would be ashamed. Get your affairs in order, the Aurors will be here tomorrow."

Diatribe finished, the group made its way back outside to where Fawkes was roosting.

"Get us back to Hogwarts, Fawkes, I think we need some rest following this."

With a flash they were gone. Once back at Hogwarts, Minerva went to go drink herself to sleep, while Severus went to blow off some of his anger. This was just more justification of why he had originally joined the Dark Lord. Dumbledore's night, unfortunately was just getting started. He had to go into the Ministry to file a report of the murder of Harry Potter by his muggle relatives and then begin drawing support for a logical response in the Wizengamot. It wouldn't do for Harry's tragic death to serve as a scapegoat for Blood Purity activities.

**I decided to add some background to the story to help slow down the plot, and just make it a better story. The next chapter will be Harry's near brush with death and washing up on France's shores. Aside from that, there will be a split between the Wizarding World's response to his "death" and his acclimatization to France. I may slow down his memory recovery a bit as well.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I decided to listen to some of the reviewers and try and slow the story down, so I added more to the first chapter and broke it up into these two chapters.**

Harry came to in the back of the car, stuffed in the trunk. He couldn't see anything as he had been rolled up inside of a rug, almost not being able to breath. He was drifting in and out of lucidness, darkness had descended upon him, he couldn't feel or hear anything. But, he knew he was outside of his body, there didn't appear to be the standard connection to the body. As his body died, multiple sources of energy tried to keep him alive all being directed by his magic, desperate in its attempt to keep him alive. First, the basilisk venom, which had been all but neutralized by Fawkes' tears attempted to kick-start his heart, but failed, burning itself out, but giving him an immunity to any poison's he may encounter. Then, the phoenix tears activated, repairing his injuries and any bodily issues, such as eye sight, weak bones, stunted growth, malnutrition but it couldn't do much for his lack of oxygen and low magic levels which were hindering his recovery. His magic was dangerously low from activating the two potent liquids in his veins, but it wouldn't give up. It wasn't enough to save him, but it kept him alive, even if he was still outside his body.

Then, he felt wetness, even though he wasn't in his body, he was in the ocean now, they were trying to get rid of the evidence. His lungs burned as he didn't have enough oxygen, all of that work was for nothing.

A foreign entity, one that felt like the ghostly apparition of Tom Riddle from second year, struggled and unleashed all of its magic. It would not die due to the actions of a pathetic muggle. No, it would save the boy, and then take control. Now was the perfect time, as the boy wasn't even in control of his body, his soul was currently outside the body and his magic was all but used up. The release of magic adapted the body to be able to survive with just a breath of oxygen for almost ten minutes, not much in the grand scheme of things, but enough for the body's functions to be kept active and for the body to be launched out of the water briefly.

**NO! YOU SHALL NOT SULLY MY SON ANY MORE. NOW THAT YOU HAVE SAVED HIM, I WILL END YOU!** Boomed a voice, one that was familiar to Harry, it was like the voice that he heard when he saw the Dementors, but it seemed to be something more than just his mother's voice. It seemed to have love and power in it.

As he thought that, the voice, Mom, lashed out at the piece of Riddle in his scar, obliterating it and any leftover taint. Unfortunately, this also exhausted the remains of his mom's protective magic, and any magic left in his body as it had had to draw upon his reserves to destroy the parasite.

The explosion of magic, sent his body to the opposite shoreline of where he had started. Harry would awaken to find himself wearing a simple pair of relatively new boxers, the only thing new the Dursleys bought him, in a location that he did not know, and with no memory of who he was as his head would strike the pier rather hard, where he washed up.

What he didn't know was that his arrival has caused quite the commotion as a life guard had seen the boy brought in by a wave and then smash against the pier. Thanks to his intervention, Harry was saved and brought to shore, before an ambulance came to take him to the local hospital. There, he was treated for exhaustion and a concussion, but aside from that, they were more worried about why he was floating in the ocean and had no identification on him. Unfortunately for them, he would have no answers to these questions when he woke up, as it was discovered that he didn't know French. When an English speaker was brought into the room, a pretty young thing, Harry flushed from her seeing him in so little, causing the staff to realize that they had forgotten to give him any clothing. She just giggle before introducing herself.

"Hello, my name is Sophie, and I work as a translator for the hospital. Now, what can you tell me about why you were found washed up on the shore? Ah, merci, also, your name please."

"Um, sorry, but I can't remember any of that. I'm not entirely sure about my name right now, or what happened. All I really can recall is sleeping and then pain, I think someone hit me in the head because next thing I know, I wake up to find myself floating in the ocean briefly. After that, I fell unconscious again, and then woke up here. Which is France, I'm guessing?"

"That's right, well, I'm sorry we can't get your name, but that helps. It sounds like you were the victim of an assault in the United Kingdom and they tried to get rid of your body. Your lucky to have survived. Now, I will give this information to the police and they will see what they can do for you. I'm sure that France would be willing to give you asylum if you don't feel safe with going to back to the UK."

"Thank you, Sophie. I really appreciate it."

Turning to face the boy on her way out the door, she winked at him, "It was my pleasure cutey."

With no form of identification, no memory, and no knowledge of French. Harry would find himself held in a juvenile detention center, as the officials tried to check with the government of the United Kingdom about a 14-15 year old boy who was the victim of an assault. Unfortunately for both sides, there were no reports that matched his description, as the only one that had been put out in the muggle world looking for Harry, had described him as a small child with glasses and a lightning bolt scar. This had been put out under the off-chance that he had lived through the assault. After two weeks, it was decided that as he had no relatives searching for him, and the British government didn't know of him, that he would be given a name and asylum in France along with EU citizenship. Why not send him back to the UK? Well, it was honestly, because they couldn't figure out where in the U.K. he was from. His accent could have been anywhere from London, England, to somewhere in Scotland. It was decided it would be simply easier to have him stay in France.

Unbeknownst to him, the whole of the magical UK was in a state of mourning, as they believed that the Boy-Who-Lived was killed by his muggle relatives. Following this news breaking, there was a massive outcry over his placement there. It was asked who put him there, and if it followed his parents' wills. When it was discovered that Dumbledore placed the boy there without checking the wills and that Sirius Black was denied custody by Hagrid, on Dumbledore's orders. People were incensed, some that Sirius would try and take the child whose parents he betrayed, others that Dumbledore felt he had the right to ignore the law. In the midst of this, it was discovered that Sirius was never given a trial, the uproar grew even bigger, and as a result, the trial was held, and Sirius Black was found not guilty by the courts. Dumbledore did his best to cool the fires of public opinion before it resulted in violence, but it was not meant to be. He was happy to find out that this tragedy resulted in Sirius' innocence being revealed, though, he was sure that Sirius would rather still be on the run with a living Harry, then free without Harry.

Among this upheaval, a vocal few incited the masses to attack the Dursleys and get retribution. Cooler heads tried to calm them, but it was not to be. The Dursleys were attacked, and when they started insulting the Boy-Who-Lived and revealed what they had done to him, tempers grew hot and piercing hexes and reductos were launched. Quickly bringing an end to the Dursleys. During this, it was discovered that the cupboard under the stairs used to have someone living in it, this enraged the crowd even more, their savior had been abused, and then finally killed by these muggles. Maybe You-Know-Who was more right than they thought, strangely enough, even some muggle-borns and halfbloods thought this.

Harry, now, Adrien Iacomus Noir, found himself having to undergo tutoring as it was discovered that his knowledge of French was abysmal, probably having taken the language in primary school for a brief spell. His name came about from looking through some books on French names, for some reason both James and Black stood out in his memory, so seeing French version of the two he decided to use them for his middle and last names. First name, well, he couldn't find a French version of Hadrian, so, he went with the next best thing, Adrien, thus Adrien Iacomus Noir was born. Tutoring was boring, but he understood the necessity of learning the language if he wanted to live within the country, though he couldn't help but feel that there was something missing from his life, and not just his memory, but this feeling, one of this inner energy. He couldn't really describe it.

One thing he was happy about, Sophie, the cute translator from the hospital had decided to help him out initially with all of the forms he needed to fill out for asylum and getting his name. She told him that he reminded her of her little brother, who was with family in the USA, so she wanted to help him. He was happy about that, as it gave him at least one person to talk to in this new country, and someone to care about. Sophie laughed at his name choice, but at least made sure he knew how to pronounce it so he wouldn't be butchering his own name.

The classes that he took were for any new immigrants and refugees, so he wasn't the only one there around his age, as he encountered three boys and two girls from Somalia that had made it to France, trying to escape the death and violence of their homeland. He had chosen to walk with them since they lived in the same relative area, but he had just dropped them off at their apartment complex.

It was while he was walking back to his apartment that he had been given in a less affluent part of Paris, that he was jumped by a group of boys, the oldest being 18, they had heard his poor attempts at French when he had bumped into an elderly lady, and wanted to make it clear to him that they didn't like the presence of foreigners on their turf.

The oldest, pulled out a switch blade and made to attack him while calling him a pig, his first thrust got Adrien in his shoulder, but suddenly, it was like a switch was thrown, and his magic responded to him, launching the boy across the street, unconscious. The others made to run off, when they were all immobilized and then stunned.

The man who had stunned them, was elderly, but finely dressed. A look of contempt on his face as he stared at the riffraff, though, thankfully, it was due to the fact that they had attacked an innocent, not that they were muggles.

"Well, my boy, that could have ended badly. You do know that you could have revealed the existence of magic to the muggles?"

"Sorry," Harry said in English, "my French isn't quite that good yet."

"Oh, an Englishman," the man stated in accented English, "what are you doing here, and with no wand?"

"I don't know sir, before they attacked me, I had no memory of who I was, or magic. But, when my magic defended me, I started to remember something, unfortunately it feels like most of it is just there, but I can't access it. I know that magic is real, and that I can do it, but aside from that, I don't know. Also, is there anything you can do for this wound, I'm losing a lot of blood."

"Sorry, young man. I forgot. Here, should be fine now," he said as he muttered a quick healing spell. "Now, I have a muggle repelling ward up, and I will be obliviating these men, as that is my job at the Ministry. Sorry, if these words don't make much sense to you. I guess the easiest way to explain it is that there is a magical world, hidden from the muggles, non-magicals. I work for the French Magical Government, as an Oblivator, I fix memories to hide the existence of magic. I would offer to aid you in the recovery of your memory, but it seems that it is coming back to you, so it is best to let it, even if it is a slow process. Now, I can not do anything about your schooling at the moment, but I can take you to our equivalent of Diagon Alley, the main British magical shopping district, and there you can check with the goblins if you have a vault at one of their branches. They check by blood and should be able to help you ascertain your name. If you do have a vault, I suggest you withdraw some money and purchase a wand, to do magic, and an owl to be able to send letters. I will have a letter sent to your French name, so that you can be registered and be given a permit to do magic, as you are living on your own, and currently outside of school. Should you feel confident after self-studying for a year or two, you can see about taking the O.W.L.s at the British Embassy, or our equivalent. Though, that is depending on your level of knowledge once your memories return."

"Thank you sir, that's been a lot of help. Oh, my name is Adrien Iacomus Noir, if you need to contact me."

"It's no problem, Adrien. My name is Phillipe Proulx if you ever need to get a hold of me. I work as an Obliviator for the French Ministry of Magic. Now, I shall side-along apparate you to Route de la Magie. The French branch of Gringotts will be impossible to miss."

With that, Adrien, though, really, Harry, felt as if he was being squeezed through a too small pipe while spinning. As they stopped, his feet smashed into the ground, and he just barely kept afoot.

"Ah, not good with magic transport? The secret is to try and keep moving. Good day."

As Phillipe walked off, Adrien wondered if he would ever be able to regain his memories, and even if he would want to. Life was good right now, he may not have money, but he was in a beautiful country, could do magic, and was learning a new language. Ah, best to bite the bullet and see what I can find out about myself, who knows, maybe I'm rich and famous. Ha, like that would happen.

**I've been wanting to do a Harry/Fleur story, so I decided to see what I could get that would be a bit different than the norm. I think this should work, as with Harry's death, the Tri-Wizard tournament will be called off. Harry should find out his name next chapter, and decide what he wants to do with himself. Leaning towards staying in Paris and having him go to Muggle School while hiring some tutors and doing self-study. Will meet Fleur's family either right after or before meeting Fleur.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, decided I would write another chapter of this before getting back to my more frequently updated story. Still don't own the Harry Potter rights.**

The fallout to the death of Harry Potter extended past the demise of his muggle relatives. There was a global outcry over the bungling of his placement following the death of his parents and Voldemort. While he wasn't looked upon as a messiah outside of the British Isles, he was still respected for his vanquishing of Voldemort, though more people abroad gave credit to his genius of a mother. When news came out that it was due to the actions of Dumbledore that Harry Potter was placed with abusive muggles instead of in the care of his legal guardian, much of Dumbledore's support and respect globally was lost. Now, he was still looked at as a powerful and wise leader, but, perhaps it was time for him to cede some of his responsibilities and roles to those younger than him as it was glaringly obvious that he could no longer handle the responsibilities. With the news that Sirius Black was innocent and still did 12 years in Azkaban, the United Kingdom became something of a joke on the international stage, making it difficult for anyone to take them seriously, or be willing to give them any responsibility on the global stage. While it was too late to relocate the Quidditch World Cup, it was ruled that the Tri-Wizard tournament would have to be relocated from Hogwarts. As a result, instead of the tournament being hosted by Hogwarts, it would instead be staged at Beaubaxtons.

"Damn, all that work to organize the tournament, thrown away. Now, I'll have to arrange for the students of an eligible age to travel to France for this tournament, I will have to see about arranging some tutoring for them, as we do not possess the staff necessary to send over teachers with the students. Either we can hire some temporary tutors or see if it wouldn't be feasible for them to attend lectures at Beaubaxtons."

"You know, Albus, that very few of our students are fluent in French. No, any student willing to go and attempt to compete will have to either have access to private tutors of their own, or we will have to arrange for the hiring of additional teachers."

"Alas, you are correct Minerva. None the less, it is an important opportunity to create closer ties between the international communities, especially in these trying times, so if we have to reach into our budget to hire some additional teachers, then that is what we will do."

In Otterly St. Catchpole, the mood was not quite as optimistic as it seemed a depressing mood hung over the house that the Weasley family called home.

"That was a great World Cup, but I still can't get over the fact that Harry's gone. If only we had invited him to come over a few days earlier, he'd still be here and we'd all be talking about the match and trying to recreate the moves that we'd seen."

"Oh, honestly, Ronald. How could you be thinking about Quidditch at a time like this? Our friend is DEAD!" Hermione yelled out before bursting into tears and running out of the room.

Ginny just gave her brother a dissapointed stare before following the crying girl out of the room in order to comfort her and get her own sorrow out.

"Not cool, Ron," the twins bit out, for once, not jovial in the least, grim would be a better description, "Harry was like another brother to us and you go and trivialize his passing by talking about a game, even we know better. It's time for you to grow up brother dearest. You can't go through life this insensitive."

In another room of the house, the two eldest Weasley brothers sat with a bottle of firewhiskey between them and two full glasses in their hands.

"Man, I can't believe Harry's gone, and before I even got the chance to thank him for saving Gin's life. I felt like I knew the kid after all the mentions of him by Ron, Ginny, the twins, and our folks," the older of the two said. His hair pulled back into a ponytail reminiscent of a muggle rocker, especially with the dragon fang hanging in his ear. After he said this, he took a big swig of his drink, ignoring the burn in the manner of an experienced drinker.

"I know, same here, but, man, it is kind of ironic, of all the things to finally get him. It's that sad sick of shit and his spawn. I mean, he faced down a fucking basilisk and a hundred dementors, Bill. But, honestly, it may be for the best that he's dead."

"What the fuck, Charlie?"

"Now, I didn't mean it like that, Bill. But, you have to admit, he's had a pretty shitty life and it hasn't seemed to improve at all since coming to Hogwarts. Yes, he's made some friends, but how many times has he had to risk his life when it should have been the responsibility of the adults. And it seems that every year it was just getting worse. To top it all off, he goes home in the summer and gets abused. Maybe now he'll find some true happiness, you know, since he's dead."

"I guess, though, there's this thing named tact my fine man, I would have thought you would have developed some of that by now."

"Ha, it isn't needed around the dragons."

"Well, how about around the birds?"

"Nah, the ones who are tough enough to be around dragons don't care too much for wit, they'd rather a rough motherfucker instead of some smarmy cocksucker like Percy."

"I'm sure, then again, I guess the same applies to me. In my line of work, can't be a pansy and expect any of the girls to actually like you. It's part of why I wear my hair this long and have this dragon tooth earring."

"Man, I forgot how vain you could be. What say we kill this bottle and go for a night on the town?"

"Now, that's a thought. Let's do it."

Up in their room, Arthur and Molly were wallowing in their guilt, "Molly, if I had only invited him to come earlier, all of this could have been avoided."

"Now, Arthur, I'll admit this was awful, but you can't blame yourself, you couldn't have known. They didn't seem overly pleasant but who would have expected them to kill him?"

"But, we should have! You remember the story that we dismissed as the twins trying to stir trouble, they said that he had bars on his windows, and you recall how thin he was. We should have seen it."

"Dumbledore should have never put him with them."

"No, he shouldn't have. There are a lot of things that he has to answer for, but I feel this will haunt him to the end of his days. If it doesn't Sirius Black will make sure he can't forget about it. You should have seen him Molly, after he was declared innocent, he had to be restrained so that he wouldn't murder Albus, not that I could blame him in this case, his only link to James, his godson, Harry, dead."

Speaking of Sirius, one could find him back in a building that he had sworn to never return to, his family's ancestral home, Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He wasn't alone though, he was accompanied by a gaunt Remus Lupin, neither man seemed capable of accepting what had happened.

"How could this have happened, Remus? I always knew Petunia was jealous bitch and an absolute waste as a human being, but I could never have imagined her to be so reprehensible as to stand aside and let her husband and son murder her nephew. Fuck, Harry's dead, Remus, what am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know Padfoot, I really don't know, but I'm not quite sure if I want to remain here if this is how it's going to be."

"Me neither, I can't stand to stay in the British Isles with all these reminders of everything that we've lost. As soon as I'm declared medically fit, I'm packing my bags and heading to the mainland. You, Moony, are coming with me and I won't have any protests against that. We're all that's left of the Marauders and I'm not letting you go and disappear on me like the rest."

"Okay, I'll go Padfoot, hell, it may be better for me. You know that the mainland has always been more lax towards werewolves and other halfbreeds."

"Alright, enough talk, let's drink."

"Agreed, let's drink. To those no longer among us."

"To those no longer among us, this will be a lot of toasts, Moony, you sure you can handle all the firewhiskey?"

"I can definitely handle it better than a skeleton like you, at least I have some meat on my bones."

No everyone was upset over the death of Harry Potter, a certain temporary body of Voldemort's was particularly pleased over the death. How did he know the boy was dead, in his struggles, the connection had opened, becoming known to Voldemort, but before he had the chance to exploit it, he had discovered that the boy was on the verge of death, and with the destruction of the connection, he was sure of his death. He would be upset that the boy died due to the actions of another, but he could claim to himself that the connection prevented the boy from saving himself, and thus, he was responsible for the boy's death. Now, he could go about acquiring another wizard's blood for his rebirth, it would still have to be an enemy, and a strong one at that, perhaps Dumbledore, if he could have his men get their hands on him.

Adrien, meanwhile, was finding himself on a street that appeared to be a lot more grande than its counterpart in London, at least that was what his fuzzy memories were telling him. Unfortunately, all that he could really remember was that he was British, had attended Hogwarts, and that it wasn't an overly safe or happy place. Overall, he wasn't really looking to return to that anytime soon. He could honestly say that this was the happiest that he had ever been, living on his own in Paris. No, he'd stay here and do some self-study in magic while finishing his muggle education. It honestly was the more practical option for him. Plus, he couldn't even recall if he may have had a vault at Gringotts, so, there wasn't a very good chance of him being able to afford to attend an official magical school. He'd be lucky enough to have the money necessary to purchase a wand and the needed course books.

Seeing the glittering auspices of Gringotts, he decided to go and try his luck, who knows, maybe he would have a vault. While looking around, he was amazed with just how busy this branch of Gringotts looked as he could see that all of the tellers were occupied and there was still three times as many customers in line. Well, looks like I'll have to wait a while. While people watching, he couldn't help but have his eyes drawn to a family that was a few people ahead of him in line. While the man of the family was nothing special, a man of average height and a little bit of pudge, he did seem like a happy fellow. It was the two older females that really caught his eyes, while they were stunning, it seemed like he was being drawn to them, he couldn't really tell why, but he could see he wasn't the only one to feel the tug as it seemed most of the men were drooling while looking at them and not a few of the woman. Now, they were attractive, but that was no reason to lose his mind over it, so he tried to focus on something else and his eyes were drawn to the youngest, a girl who looked no older than 9, clinging to her sister's hand. She was cute, but, it was funny to see her glaring at all of the men around her while calling them pigs under her breath. Adrien gave out a laugh at that, causing her to blush and the elder sister to look at him surprised.

She asked something in French, which he was able to understand as, "You are not affected?"

Confused, he responded in fragmented French, "No, I am, though I'm not sure by what. Just thought it wasn't appropriate to drool, you're beautiful, but that's no reason to act like a complete caveman."

The little one let out a giggle at that, while the father smiled. The wife, she just cast an appraising eye over me before winking at her daughter, "I like this one, you may want to get to know him better."

"Mother, be serious!" she screeched indignantly, it was kind of cute. "You are not French, non?" She asked in accented English.

"No, I think I'm English, though I could be Welsh, Scottish, or Irish. Not really sure, part of the reason I'm here. I woke up with amnesia in immigration a few weeks ago, just recently, casting some magic triggered my memories of having gone to Hogwarts but no more. Thankfully, I ran into an obliviator who was nice enough to apparate me to the magical part of Paris."

"Oh, that's awful. Do you have somewhere to stay?" the mother asked.

"Yes, the government set me up with an apartment of my own after they granted me asylum, since they thought I was abused in the U.K., not sure how true that is, but I've been enjoying my time here. As it stands, I think I'll finish my muggle education, up to University while self-studying magic. Hopefully I have a vault so I can stock up on some books and get a wand."

"Nonsense, Fleur is in her final year at Beaubaxtons, you can have her old books. I also work as a tutor, so, should you need some help, look up Appoline Delacour."

"Thank you, Mrs. Delacour."

"Just call me Appoline, ..."

"Oh, sorry, the name I chose to go by is Adrien Iacomus Noir."

"It's been a pleasure Adrien. Well, if everything moves along, would you like to go shopping with us? We could get you those books afterwards and then arrange for transport to your apartment."

"That would be much appreciated, sir."

"It's Jean, and these two are my daughters; Fleur and Gabrielle."

"Then, thank you Jean. Oh, looks like you're up."

"Yes, we'll be waiting after you finish your business."

A few minutes later, Adrien made his way to a teller.

"Um, hello, I'm coming to check whether or not I have an account. I seem to have gotten amnesia."

"Do you remember your name?" the goblin sneered at me.

"No, sir. I fashioned myself a new handle since arriving in France. I know I'm originally from the United Kingdom."

"In that case, we will have to do a blood test."

"That's fine," I said though I had a sense of unease as if something was going to go wrong.

"Now, I need you to cut yourself and have the blood drip into the basin."

I did so, and a moment later, I looked up to see a rather agitated goblin.

"Well, it appears that you do have an account with a branch of Gringotts, but your blood has been diluted by the addition of substances that are highly magical. It will take some time for us to match you to an account and provide you with your actual name. If you would like, we would be willing to make you a loan at a certain interest rate."

"Um, no thank you. I can wait, but I do have this money to convert, I quickly pulled out a couple hundred francs."

"Very well, we will convert these and charge a two galleon fee for the test. Would you like to open a new account since the old one is inaccessible?"

"No, thank you. I can wait until I have access to my other account."

Walking away from the register, I found myself surrounded by the Delacour family.

Appoline started, "So, how did it go? Do you have an account."

"Well, I do, but they don't know which one. The test was able to ascertain the presence of an account. But, it will take them some time to find which one as they said my blood contained a few highly magical substances in it that made it difficult to confirm my identity, though, not impossible. Hopefully it doesn't take them to long."

"Most unusual," Jean Sebastian bit out, "never-mind, though, are you ready to go shopping?"

"Yes, I feel quite naked without my wand."

A snort escaped Fleur at that statement, "Yes, it must be quite disturbing for a man to be without his wand." She said cheekily.

I tried to keep the blush off my face, but it obviously failed as the family erupted into laughter. I attempted to think up a repost, but all the ones that came to mind were rather perverted. I think Fleur could tell if the gleam in her eye and grin on her face said anything. My, I could tell she would be fun to be around. She seemed to have a quick wit, and was sufficiently saucy for there to never be a boring moment around her, though, I could be wrong.

"Well, let's go," I said while quickly walking towards the exit, a giggling pair of girls behind me.

**Next chapter will cover the shopping and build the Delacour's character a bit more while also trying to realistically establish Harry's life and his home schooling. Possibly have him go to Beabaxtons to see some of the tri-wizard events, though that will be later.**


End file.
